little joys
Sometimes it's the little victories, the little joys, that mean the most. Ones which you can cup in your hand and then breathe on like a dandelion just to watch it skip and scatter around the place before coming back to rest in one piece in your hand. Slip it in your pocket; a warm sliver of sunlight, a falling star for a rainy day.
The thing that happened yesterday that made me do a small skipping victory dance was both menial and meaningful. It was a conformation of sorts, something that quietly stated that I was loved, wanted, and a "cool big sister". Yes, the latter is important. I want to be a good big sister, always. I want to be helpful and caring, but I also want to be interesting. I want to be the kind of big sister whom my younger siblings want to hang out with. Silly as it may sound, I want to be cool. Yesterday, I felt that that stamp of approval had arrived from my seventeen-year-old brother Peter.
He is the second boy in the family, the fifth oldest of fifth youngest, however you want to look at it. The middle child. His hobby is his bike: trick riding, jumping, fixing it up to be faster, lighter, whatever, and building ramps to do all his crazy tricks on in the driveway. He dyed his hair orange once. He recently got his ears pierced. His clothes are the epitome of teenage cool. I'm thankful that his attitude is, though "hip", still very loving towards his family. I shook my head at him when he got his ears pierced, but he's my brother and I love him, I love him.
I was at my parent's house the other day and someone mentioned that Peter didn't have a facebook profile but had started twittering.
"You tweet?" I asked, somewhat excited. So far I was the only person in my family who twittered. My parents think the 140 character status update social networking site is rediculous, and most of my other siblings don't care. I like it, for what it is, and was intrigued that Peter was a fellow tweeter.
"Yeah, I signed up, I use it every now and then," Peter said, shrugging and giving me that half-embarressed, "I don't know, what can I say?" smile that I know so well.
The next day I looked him up on twitter and found his username. I purused past tweets of his, often about biking. I was amused to find two he tweeted while on a trip with me. I wanted to request to follow him, almost did, before pausing and wondering, "Does he really want his big sister following his tweets? Would he be annoyed by that?" Sure, I'm friends with three of my siblings on facebook, and it's a lot of fun. But Peter is still seventeen, still an oh so cool teenager, and I am his older twenty-four-year old sister. So I didn't follow him, at least for now.
It was later that afternoon when I got an email that made me do the small dance of joy. I read, "Peter has requested to follow you on twitter". I was ecstatic! He wanted to follow me, his big sister. He found me on his own and wanted to follow me! Was it our equal curiousity about each other, us siblings who no longer live in the same house but of course still love each other and want to be in each other's lives? It was a small thing, a simple thing, but it made me oh so happy. I felt that yes, I am a cool big sister. My seventeen-year-old brother has approved it. I am a cool sister, and I am happy.
The need to be approved and wanted, liked and loved, is a vital human need. It's a part of each human's DNA, stronger in some than in others. Sure, my little brother didn't have to find me on a social networking site, and sure, it truly and honestly is a small thing to telescope on in the spectrum of life, but it was still meaningful. It was meaningful because, as the old song says, I wanted him to want me. I needed him to need me. People need each other. It can be easy to forget that these days. People strive for self-sufficency. I could probably go a whole day without face-to-face human interaction, if I wanted to. Pump my own gas, buy food and other neccessities at a store with a self-checkout lane, rent movies online, and on and on. It's easy to become an island. But when one is an island, where are the little joys in life? The jokes and smiles, the compliments and requests, the trust, relationships, and even the hurts and losses that ultimately make the blessings and joys that much sweeter? Victory can only be truly savored and appreciated when one knows the pain of defeat. Joy can only be truly felt when one has walked through a valley of sorrow. I'll take the little joys and keep them close to my heart, but I won't keep them just for me. I won't be an island or a hermit. I'll take those joys and spread them like flower seeds to all I know. Joy grows joy, one little bit at a time.
The thing that happened yesterday that made me do a small skipping victory dance was both menial and meaningful. It was a conformation of sorts, something that quietly stated that I was loved, wanted, and a "cool big sister". Yes, the latter is important. I want to be a good big sister, always. I want to be helpful and caring, but I also want to be interesting. I want to be the kind of big sister whom my younger siblings want to hang out with. Silly as it may sound, I want to be cool. Yesterday, I felt that that stamp of approval had arrived from my seventeen-year-old brother Peter.
He is the second boy in the family, the fifth oldest of fifth youngest, however you want to look at it. The middle child. His hobby is his bike: trick riding, jumping, fixing it up to be faster, lighter, whatever, and building ramps to do all his crazy tricks on in the driveway. He dyed his hair orange once. He recently got his ears pierced. His clothes are the epitome of teenage cool. I'm thankful that his attitude is, though "hip", still very loving towards his family. I shook my head at him when he got his ears pierced, but he's my brother and I love him, I love him.
I was at my parent's house the other day and someone mentioned that Peter didn't have a facebook profile but had started twittering.
"You tweet?" I asked, somewhat excited. So far I was the only person in my family who twittered. My parents think the 140 character status update social networking site is rediculous, and most of my other siblings don't care. I like it, for what it is, and was intrigued that Peter was a fellow tweeter.
"Yeah, I signed up, I use it every now and then," Peter said, shrugging and giving me that half-embarressed, "I don't know, what can I say?" smile that I know so well.
The next day I looked him up on twitter and found his username. I purused past tweets of his, often about biking. I was amused to find two he tweeted while on a trip with me. I wanted to request to follow him, almost did, before pausing and wondering, "Does he really want his big sister following his tweets? Would he be annoyed by that?" Sure, I'm friends with three of my siblings on facebook, and it's a lot of fun. But Peter is still seventeen, still an oh so cool teenager, and I am his older twenty-four-year old sister. So I didn't follow him, at least for now.
It was later that afternoon when I got an email that made me do the small dance of joy. I read, "Peter has requested to follow you on twitter". I was ecstatic! He wanted to follow me, his big sister. He found me on his own and wanted to follow me! Was it our equal curiousity about each other, us siblings who no longer live in the same house but of course still love each other and want to be in each other's lives? It was a small thing, a simple thing, but it made me oh so happy. I felt that yes, I am a cool big sister. My seventeen-year-old brother has approved it. I am a cool sister, and I am happy.
The need to be approved and wanted, liked and loved, is a vital human need. It's a part of each human's DNA, stronger in some than in others. Sure, my little brother didn't have to find me on a social networking site, and sure, it truly and honestly is a small thing to telescope on in the spectrum of life, but it was still meaningful. It was meaningful because, as the old song says, I wanted him to want me. I needed him to need me. People need each other. It can be easy to forget that these days. People strive for self-sufficency. I could probably go a whole day without face-to-face human interaction, if I wanted to. Pump my own gas, buy food and other neccessities at a store with a self-checkout lane, rent movies online, and on and on. It's easy to become an island. But when one is an island, where are the little joys in life? The jokes and smiles, the compliments and requests, the trust, relationships, and even the hurts and losses that ultimately make the blessings and joys that much sweeter? Victory can only be truly savored and appreciated when one knows the pain of defeat. Joy can only be truly felt when one has walked through a valley of sorrow. I'll take the little joys and keep them close to my heart, but I won't keep them just for me. I won't be an island or a hermit. I'll take those joys and spread them like flower seeds to all I know. Joy grows joy, one little bit at a time.
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